


Dreamwatch

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-18
Updated: 2009-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: This is a crossover with 'Early Edition' that I wrote in 2000.  It's set after 'Window of Opportunity' in Season 4.  Something makes SG-1 experience nightmares, but O'Neill comes off worst of all...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

O'Neill sniffed, and rummaged in his pocket for a handkerchief. What he found was so disgusting that he only touched it for a second before retreating. Horrible things, colds. And the consequences this time were even worse than usual. Not only did he have some disgusting laundry to do, but he couldn't go through the Stargate. And if HE couldn't, neither could the rest of SG-1... 

The team was left with nothing to do. Well, there were exciting things like analysing naqahdah decay rates, kel'no'reem, ancient artefacts, the usual, but O'Neill wasn't about to stick around for those. He'd rather sleep. Those things SEND him to sleep. But he didn't want be home alone. Then he hit upon a cunning plan. All he had to do was say he was going fishing and he could creep off and do something all by himself. No one ever wanted to join him when he was fishing. It was a foolproof plan. 

Unfortunately for O'Neill, the rest of SG-1 were anything but fools. They weren't about to let him creep off without a thorough(ish) questioning. 

"Sir," said Carter, "Are you sure you should go?" 

"You know me and fishing," he replied. 

"Fishing, Jack?" asked Jackson. 

"Yup," said O'Neill. 

"Fishing?" he repeated. 

"Uh-huh," said O'Neill. 

"Fishing?" 

"Okay! I'm not going fishing," shouted O'Neill. 

"You're not?" 

"No, I'm going to Chicago," said O'Neill. 

"But Chicago, that's a long way, Jack," said Jackson. "Would you like some company?" 

And there was O'Neill, thinking he'd be able to put the top down on the car and turn the ubiquitous Queen tape up extra loud. Drat. 

"Has someone TOLD you to make my life a living hell, Daniel?" he snapped. 

"Hey, it was only a suggestion!" replied Jackson, sounding hurt. 

O'Neill relented. Who couldn't, when faced with Jackson's pathetic puppy dog face? 

"Okay, you can come. Does that mean all of you'll be joining me?" he asked. 

It certainly did. And so, SG-1 left Colorado for the colder climes of Chicago, the windy city, which is mighty pretty.


	2. Chapter 2

Chicago was big. It had those little trains that ran above street level. It was great. Teal'c liked the trains; if he'd had his way they probably would have ridden about on them all day. But O'Neill had come to Chicago for a reason, and it wasn't just because they had little trains, it wasn't even because it was his home town. Oh no. 

They settled into the hotel, and slept. O'Neill's head felt like it had all sorts of gunk drifting around inside it. And there was throbbing. He was still using fewer tissues than Jackson had been in his allergy days, but only by a small margin. Completely exhausted, he slept. 

Once he'd fallen asleep he sort of wished he hadn't. In his dreams he relived horrible moments. Times people had died. It sort of reminded him of the Keeper's virtual reality machines, except this time the playback included Charlie's death. It wasn't the most refreshing sort of sleep. 

None of the dreams SG-1 were having were altogether pleasant. Teal'c was dreaming about life in the big city. To begin with he was wandering the streets. But he ended up being chased by a giant vacuum cleaner in a car park. Carter was dreaming about things going wrong with her teeth. Okay, so that might not sound scary to you, but dentistry can be very scary indeed... 

The most complicated dream was the one taking place in Jackson's subconscious. He was having a bizarre dream about a Mountie. The viewpoint was constantly changing. He thought that he WAS the Mountie, but sometimes he appeared to be seeing himself, almost as if he was on the TV. 

It started off at some sort of waterway in-between two buildings. A canal, that sort of thing. He was with a man, and they had to cross the water to get to the building on the other side. So the man ran across this narrow bridge, which was more like a plank. Then Jackson started running across. But the bad guys turned up and he decided to turn back. That was when he fell off the bridge, and hung on for dear life. The evil guys pulled him up, and took him inside the building, where they beat him up thoroughly. 

Then they took him to a room and threw him inside. By this time he'd lost his hat, and his uniform was looking quite dishevelled. Lying by the door, he crawled up the stairs into the room. Once at the top a little girl came up to him to see if he was alright. He tried to reassure her that he was. 

He learned that he (and all the other people held prisoner there) would be expected to fight in a ring downstairs. To the death, probably. Shocked by this revelation, he somehow he managed to escape. The girl did too. For some reason, he needed a small cube. The girl managed to find one, and he thanked her kindly. He told her to go back, so she wouldn't get into trouble, then he ran on. 

He found himself in a huge hall. It had a wooden floor and ornate fireplaces. There were some men doing some sort of play. From the look of them, with the wigs and costumes, it was early 18th century. He thought Georgian. He lurked in a corner, trying to blend in. This was when he realised how terrible he looked. His red jacket was open, and his white top underneath was dirty. He was a disgrace to the Mounties. 

Then the evil men burst in. He ran away, into the next room. Then he went through the door there, into the first room again, and managed to get outside. Upon opening the door he was shocked to discover he was surrounded by Mounties with guns! And there were some Mounties singing, too. The people in the park seemed to think it was some sort of entertainment. They clapped. 

He didn't try to run. It was hopeless. So he walked back with them. He ended up talking to a woman as he tidied his uniform up the best he could. She asked why he was tidying himself up, and he said he thought he was worthy Mountie material, now that he'd been confronted by the evil guys masquerading as Mounties. 

And that was where the dream ended. Weird, huh?


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly everyone began to surface. They were disturbed by their dreams, although Carter could deal with hers as she dreamed about emergency dental treatment on a regular basis. They managed to make it downstairs for breakfast, even though they were rather downcast. O'Neill was more depressed than the others - he was clearly unwell, sniffling and coughing every few seconds. 

"Are you okay, Sir?" asked Carter. "Maybe you should have stayed home." 

"I'll be fine," he answered, playing with the cutlery as he spoke. 

"Colonel O'Neill," said Teal'c, "you do not appear to be well." 

"I've felt better," shrugged O'Neill. "I didn't sleep well last night, that's all." 

O'Neill did feel bad, but he wasn't about to give up now he'd come this far. He'd been given a surprise opportunity to come to Chicago, excellently timed, and he wasn't about to let a cold stop him. 

"I also had a restless night, O'Neill," said Teal'c. 

"Did ya?" asked O'Neill. 

"I dreamt I was being pursued by a giant vacuum cleaner." 

"One of the standing up ones or the ones you drag around?" asked O'Neill. 

"One of the ones you drag around," clarified Teal'c. 

"Figures," said O'Neill. 

"I had a dream too," said Jackson, eager to be involved in the conversation. "I was a Mountie in Chicago, and..." 

"A Mountie in CHICAGO?" said O'Neill in disbelief. "Get some more coffee, will ya?" 

Jackson was annoyed. It didn't take much to annoy Jackson, although it might be said that he actually had a reason to be annoyed this time. But even with him gone, Carter and Teal'c were still keeping O'Neill under surveillance. 

"Hey, go and buy some decongestants, do something useful!" snapped O'Neill. 

They left. Carter strode purposefully, Teal'c sort of sauntered. He kept surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder in O'Neill's direction. O'Neill ignored him. 

And so, O'Neill was finally alone. He'd have to put up with Jackson when he came back with the coffee, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. He stacked up the plates on the table, and smiled at the waitress when she came to pick them up. She smiled back. 

It was as he leaned back in his chair that he noticed someone loitering, watching him. As if he didn't have enough problems with the regular nurse patrol! He turned and looked straight at the guy, giving him a pretty evil stare. Instead of walking away, as O'Neill thought he would, he started to walk towards him. 

He was a friendly looking man, not in the least threatening. He wore an expensive looking jacket, sheepskin or something similar, with a fleece collar. A rolled up newspaper stuck out of his pocket, which he subconsciously checked every so often. He looked like he was unsure how to proceed, so he walked slowly. He tried to avoid making eye contact with O'Neill until he got to the table. 

"Hi," said the guy nervously. "Do you mind if I sit down?" 

O'Neill indicated that he didn't really mind, and the guy fumbled with the chair. When he was sitting down, he leaned forwards. He looked harmless enough, and by this time O'Neill was sort of wondering what he had to say. 

"You're Colonel Jack O'Neill, aren't you?" he asked. 

"Yeah," O'Neill answered. 

"I'm Gary Hobson," said the man, offering O'Neill his hand. 

"Pleased to meet you," O'Neill said, trying to look like he wasn't really pleased at all. 

"Sir, I know you're supposed to be speaking at the charity event tomorrow, but it'd be better if you didn't." 

The words tumbled out, like he'd practised over and over what he was going to say and he wanted to get it over with. 

"Is this a threat?" asked O'Neill. 

"No, not at all. It's just... you're not well, are you?" he said. 

"I'm sorry, who are you?" 

O'Neill tried to process what he was saying. It was hard. All the tubes in his head seemed to be blocked up, and somehow it was affecting his brain. 

"I know I sound crazy," Gary continued, "But... but what if you were to do something you'd regret?" 

"Like what?" asked O'Neill. 

"Actually, I'd heard you might be suicidal," said Gary. 

O'Neill almost laughed. Maybe he'd been suicidal once, but not any more! 

"I'm touched that you're this concerned about my mental health, but I'm fine," he said. 

Gary looked like he was about to say something. 

"Really," O'Neill said, "I'm fine," before getting up and starting to walk away from him. 

"Colonel..." he pleaded. 

O'Neill raised his hand as he walked away from him, trying to make sure he knew the conversation was over. He practised Teal'c's over the shoulder glancing as he walked out of the room, but Gary wasn't following him. He made his way back to his room and started to think about the odd conversation he'd just had. Then he decided it probably wasn't worth it. So he started thinking what he was going to say at the charity event. But then he decided he'd just make it up. It was supposed to sound heartfelt. No, he'd sleep for a while. Just for a few minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as he started to sleep he entered a nightmarish world. The dead were there, and they were keen for him to join them. They had good reasons why he should, too. One by one they reminded him of the times he'd escaped death, times when others in his command didn't make it. Was it fair that his orders had meant he'd survived and they'd died? There was no space in his dream for a voice of reason. Nothing told him that things had to have happened that way. Nothing told him he'd done nothing wrong. He was thoroughly condemned. 

"Can we come in, Sir?" shouted Carter. 

O'Neill heard her in his dream, becoming confused before the knocking made him realise it was real. He stumbled out of bed, opening the door reluctantly, still off-balance after the nightmare. They filed in, standing around the room nervously. O'Neill rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up more, part of him sure he must still be asleep. There was a perfectly good reason for him to think that - someone he knew from years ago, someone who'd been in his dream, was standing with them. 

"You look..." started Jackson. 

"Better, you look better!" said Carter, finishing off the sentence. 

O'Neill wondered where this was going. One minute they were trying to banish him to a nice hospital ward somewhere, the next they'd done a complete U-turn. 

"Do I?" he asked. "I don't FEEL better." 

"You don't, Sir?" asked Carter. "That's a shame, I mean..." 

"We heard what you're here to do, Jack," said Jackson, "We're, well..." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," O'Neill said. "Well, I'm not so sure I should do it. I feel pretty awful." 

"In, in what way?" asked Jackson. 

"Do the words, 'I'm melting, I'm melting' mean anything to you?" replied O'Neill. "And HOW did you find out what I'm here for?" 

"Gary Hobson told us, Colonel O'Neill," said Teal'c. 

"Oh that's just great," O'Neill muttered. "Look, your support is overwhelming, but you were probably right. I'm not well. How does that guy know what I'm here for, anyway?" 

"That's an interesting question, Colonel," said Carter. 

"For some reason he really doesn't want you to do it, Jack," added Jackson. 

"Any ideas WHY?" I asked, hoping they'd all rush off to investigate. 

"Perhaps he is insane," said Teal'c, raising one eyebrow. 

"Was that a joke, Teal'c?" I asked. 

Was he insane? He hadn't seemed insane, though it's hard to tell these days. For a moment O'Neill drifted off into some sort of reverie. Slowly his eyes focussed on the person standing in the room with SG-1: Sergeant Thompson. He decided not to mention the intruder in case the others thought he was insane. Which was entirely possible. But it made him wonder exactly what was going on. 

"Do you think this is an ordinary cold?" he said, trying to drop the enquiry seamlessly into the conversation. 

"Why...?" asked Jackson, in that incredibly slow way he has. 

"Hey, forget I asked," O'Neill replied. 

"I don't know about the cold Sir, it checked out with Dr Fraiser, but something strange might be going on," said Carter. She looked at him thoughtfully. "We've all been having bad dreams, which is sort of unusual." 

There was silence for a moment. The others thought about what Carter had said, wondering what the repercussions would be. For them, it was just a few restless nights. That is, as long as it was just a drug or something in their systems, which was the most likely explanation. But for O'Neill, probably because of the cold, it was worse. 

O'Neill wasn't sure what to do. Dr Channing had extended the invitation a few years back, and this was the first time he'd been able to make it. When O'Neill had come back from Abydos, he'd finally felt able to deal with Charlie's death. That was the first step to recovery, wasn't it? Realising that you needed help? So he'd seen Channing. And Channing had helped a lot. He was an old family friend, so it wasn't as scary as seeing some strange head doctor. O'Neill had finally been able to come to an event, and now he was going to say he couldn't do it! 

"Why don't you go get that Gary Hobson fella?" asked O'Neill. 

They didn't seem to notice that he'd changed the topic of conversation. Well, maybe Teal'c had, he was often more perceptive than the others, but he was willing to let it go. They all dashed off to find Mr Hobson, and they left O'Neill alone with Sergeant Thompson. Who was still ignoring him. 

"Hey," he said, not really expecting an answer. 

After sitting there in silence for a while, the rest of SG-1 returned. 

"Looks like you got your wish," O'Neill said to Gary. 

"Good, good choice," he said nervously, "But something's going to happen, I'm not really sure how to say this, but..." 

O'Neill stared at him. To being with Gary had played a huge part in making him decide to cancel, and now he'd had a change of heart! Or had he? They didn't need O'Neill to do the speech, they hadn't been expecting him to come until he called them yesterday. 

"I'm not saying you should do it, that's not a good idea, but there are consequences," he continued. 

"Consequences?" asked Jackson. 

"If someone doesn't do that speech then a little kid's going to die," explained Gary. 

"Is that a threat?" questioned Carter. 

"Carter," snapped O'Neill, "I've covered this threat thing with Mr Hobson before, he's probably the least threatening person on Earth." 

For a moment it looked like Gary was going to object, but instead he shrugged and grinned slightly. 

"He's right, in all likelihood a kid WILL die," O'Neill said, burying my head in his hands. 

"Sir, we have options," said Carter. 

"Jack, I could do the speech," said Jackson. "I mean, on your behalf, if that's okay." 

He adjusted his glasses, and waited for O'Neill to say something. Part of O'Neill was surprised and flattered that Jackson would do that, and part of him was scared of what Jackson might say on his behalf. But he might just be onto something. For the last time O'Neill seriously considered doing the speech anyway, whatever the consequences, but then he saw Sergeant Thompson had been joined by Lieutenant Nicholls. He was looking just as ethereal and unwilling to co-operate as Thompson had been. And he made him realise he couldn't do the speech. 

"Daniel, it may mean I can never show my face in this city again, but why not. You go ahead." 

O'Neill collapsed onto the bed and screwed his eyes shut. 

"Now go away, leave me in peace!" he ordered, shooing them out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Once more he fell into a restless sleep. And this time he saw what Gary had predicted. He saw what might have happened if he'd done the speech. Just as he stepped onto the podium, he raised a gun to his head. That was something he'd considered seriously some time ago, but he'd never felt it was right. It seemed like the easy way out. But now the others were standing there telling him to do it! Sergeant Thompson and Lieutenant Nicholls helped him pull the trigger. 

He slept through lunch, though he'd rather have had the food than the bad dreams. Teal'c summoned him when they were leaving, and O'Neill ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to make himself look presentable. When they got to the park, O'Neill was amazed at how many seats had been set out. And many of them were actually occupied! People were wandering past all the time as well - it was a prime site. 

Sam and Teal'c wandered off with Jackson, presumably to make sure he actually made the speech. He was the speeches expert, what with his lecturing experience. Okay, so O'Neill had made a few, but it wasn't exactly his forte. So he was left with Gary, who ushered him to a seat. He sat nervously, looking around occasionally to check that he hadn't been followed. He knew he was a mess, and he knew he ought to be getting his head checked out by Dr Fraiser. But for some reason, Gary thought that something would happen if this speech wasn't delivered. O'Neill felt inclined to trust him because he seemed to know how insane he was feeling. That and he didn't really feel like making any decisions. 

After a while the person who'd invited O'Neill to come, Dr Channing, came onto the stage and talked a little about what the charity did. Then it was Jackson's turn. It felt strange to O'Neill, listening to someone talk about him. He must have felt a bit like Jackson had when he heard him talking at his funeral. People might think nice things of you, but they don't usually tell you to your face. At least O'Neill HOPED he was going to say nice things! If he didn't, he could always make his life hell... 

"Hello everybody," he said, adjusting the microphone and causing a whistle of feedback. "My good friend Jack O'Neill was supposed to be doing this, but he was too ill. I know how much this means to him, so I'll try to do him justice." 

He paused, and looked out across a sea of attentive faces. This was probably a better reception than he'd had at most of his lectures! 

"It was six years ago that Jack's son Charlie died. Jack was sitting outside with his wife Sara, and they heard a gun go off. When he got inside, Charlie was mortally wounded." 

He paused again, and O'Neill wondered what he really thought about it all. In so many ways it seemed so long ago, and everyone thought he'd dealt with it. Speaking here was to have been the last step in the journey he'd started when the Stargate programme began, but instead of O'Neill it was Jackson up there on the platform. They all knew how he felt, they'd all heard the emotion when he pleaded with Malachi, but he hadn't realised he'd been quite so transparent. 

"Jack knew the dangers of guns, he worked with them. And he also knew that he shouldn't have left the gun upstairs like he did. That's why I'm here, to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. I know there are people out there who would blame Jack for what happened, but you should take a minute to think about the effect it had on him. And most importantly, you should learn from his mistake." 

Once more he paused, and O'Neill wished he would get on with it. It HAD been his fault. He hardly needed reminding. 

"If you think about losing someone you love, consider what it must be like to wake up every day and know that they'd be alive if you'd done things differently. If he'd locked that gun away Charlie would probably still be alive. He lived with that knowledge, and it took him to the brink. He couldn't think about anything else. His marriage started to fall apart, and he turned into a shadow of his former self." 

He was talking quicker now, and O'Neill was sitting there thinking that they'd never talked about this, but he knew so much! Jackson had felt loss, but the circumstances had been so different. There was no way he could blame himself for what had happened. O'Neill could. So how did Jackson know how it felt? 

"He was seriously considering suicide. Maybe it wouldn't make things the way they were, but he deserved to die. Then he got called up for a special assignment, so he polished himself up and tried to hide all his feelings. He didn't care if he didn't survive the assignment, and that was why he was chosen. Charlie had meant everything to him, and Charlie was gone." 

O'Neill could hear someone sobbing nearby, and he was just about ready to join her. He usually tried to forget what had happened. Okay, so he'd met an alien masquerading as Charlie who had given him a chance to say goodbye, but that hadn't really been Charlie, and he knew it. 

"His wife was relieved when he'd gone. To start with she'd blamed him for what had happened. That was inevitable. But as she'd watched him fall apart, she'd pitied him. They'd always loved each other, driven each other on, but the accident changed everything. He thought she blamed him, even if she didn't, and it drove them apart. She didn't want him to die, but she didn't know if she could live with him anymore." 

O'Neill still loved Sara, he wished they could go back to how things were. But things never could! It wouldn't be right to forget everything that had happened, but how could he live if he kept remembering? 

"Luckily for Jack, the job he'd been given gave him a reprieve. He met a boy, and he saw something in him that reminded him of his lost son. And he knew that there were people he could start to care about, people he could protect. That's why he wanted to be here, to tell you not to give up on yourself. Learn from his mistake. Not only for your sake, not for selfish reasons, but so that we can save lives." 

He was right, that was why O'Neill could continue living. That was why he'd come here, to make sure others weren't as stupid as he'd been. He had to remember; Charlie's death had made him who he was. On the surface he might be the witty Jack O'Neill, but he still remembered. He was dealing with his pain now, rather than ignoring it by trying to be the perfect soldier, complete with really short hair. 

Without Charlie's death, O'Neill wouldn't have been recalled for the Stargate project. He wouldn't have met anyone in SG-1. He wouldn't have had the chance to travel to other worlds. How many lives had O'Neill helped because of one person's death, even one he held so dear? Had it been worth it? In the grand scheme of things, was there some sort of balance? 

There was a pause after Jackson finished speaking, and then people began to clap. O'Neill clapped too. He actually had tears welling up in his eyes - he was glad other people knew about Charlie, and understood what he'd been through. There were people who thought he was great for making it this far, for being willing to do a talk, even if he hadn't turned up. It was that, along with various other realisations, that led him to a better frame of mind. He noticed someone smiling at him, and he realised that everything was alright. All things work together for good, or something. 

Jackson turned away and released the balloons. They soared into the air, filling the sky with a mass of multicoloured bobbing shapes, spreading in all directions. O'Neill wondered if any would make it to the base. 

"Fly, my pretties!" he whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

Rubbing his eyes, O'Neill remembered that Gary was sitting next to him. He seemed a little tearful too. 

"Colonel," he said quietly, "I've been wondering something. Why did you decide not to do the speech? You seemed so adamant..." 

O'Neill thought about it for a moment and decided to tell him. He doubted Gary would try to lock him up in a padded room. Okay, so Jackson might have tried following the speed of his incarceration, but this guy wouldn't take things any further. O'Neill looked across at the person who'd been smiling at him, then he answered Gary's question. 

"I see dead people," said O'Neill. Realising this didn't help him sound sane, he added, "It's just a cold. It'll get better." 

He turned to look at Charlie again, but he'd vanished. O'Neill was glad it was him who turned up for the speech, and not Thompson or Nicholls. It was almost as if he was happy wherever he was, and he was glad O'Neill was using his death to help others. Part of him winced at this soppy wishful thinking, but part of him felt all the better for the hallucination. Gary probably didn't know that you could feel glad dead people were visiting you, but you could. 

"That's, that's an interesting cold you've got there," he said. 

"I'll be fine once the Doc's sorted me out," O'Neill said. "Tell you what, I'll tell you where I got it if you tell me how you knew all that stuff." 

Perhaps it was his cold talking, or the drugs the rest of SG-1 had dosed him with, or the emotional rollercoaster he was riding, but he didn't think Gary was one to spread government conspiracy stories. Maybe he shouldn't have told anyone, but it doesn't seem to have done any harm. And Gary seemed to accept the trade in information, although his secrets were almost as important as the SGC's. 

"You'll never believe me," Gary said. 

"Try me." 

"My cat brings me tomorrow's newspaper today," he replied. 

"And the thing that's making me hallucinate, I got that on another planet, after travelling through a thing called a Stargate," said O'Neill. 

They grinned at each other, both totally disbelieving what each other had said, and sat in a comfortable silence. Silence, that is, until O'Neill had to blow his nose. 

Soon afterwards everything returned to normal. Or almost everything. For Teal'c ended up with an irrational fear of vacuum cleaners. You don't believe me? When was the last time you saw him hoovering the SGC...?


End file.
